


The clock-hand stutters

by Subtle_Shenanigans



Series: As The Pendulum Swings, And The Grandfather Chimes [6]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Anxiety, Asperger's Syndrome, Panic Attack, Second person POV, at a wedding, depression mentions possibly, involuntary temporary mutism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2017-12-08
Packaged: 2019-02-11 23:17:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12946164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Subtle_Shenanigans/pseuds/Subtle_Shenanigans
Summary: You cannot breathe not see nor hear although you /can/, too much, to the point that senses have no sense.





	The clock-hand stutters

**Author's Note:**

> Was at a wedding awhile ago and had a panic attack. This is a summerization I guess of some of my emotions that I can recall. I'm trying to update this series periodically since it is personal and probably good for me, but I don't know how to write personal stuff very well.

You cannot.

You can't.

You can't can’t _can't can't **can’t** -_

Color, sound sight, no s ens e you ( _you?_ ) can't youne _edto **leave**_ **-**

You breathe, reigning it in and gaining some control back. You can't freak out now, can't break down. Shut down? Sure, so long as it doesn't ruin everyone else's evening.

But you can only hold on for so long with the loudblaring music and the flashingchanging lights. Luckily salvation comes in the form of family wanting to leave a little early.

But you have to wait a minute, as goodbyes are quickly said ( _you can't handle such formalities at the moment_ ), so you wait in a place that can arguably be conspicuous and inconspicuous.

Your chest tightens on each inhale, stomach (lower) clenching on the exhale. You're trying to hold on tight to the focus of breathing, that it's not until someone tries to ask you if you're okay, and you realize:

You've gone mute.

It's not clenched teeth nor twisted, heavy tongue, but a complete, weak inability to open your mouth, and when you do, your throat cannot form sounds for your mouth to mold into words.

(Not that your mind is working clearly to fully understand, much less give, speech.)

And you feel _bad_ because they only want to help, and they can't because you cannot _tell_ them how to help.

Eventually you do leave, fighting panic but unable to stop a few minutes of tears in the car, but in the end you are exhausted and feel no better than before.

 


End file.
